


The Rose Bush

by courie969



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courie969/pseuds/courie969
Summary: Tumblr prompt with massive liberty taken:"Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden, but today you've caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure "the girl is pretty enough to warrent flower theft" and I'm trying to break it to you that we're on our way to a graveyard."





	The Rose Bush

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this.

I stand at the front window and look out, watching him clip the small white bloom from my rose bush. He looks up at me once and gets up from his knees, pocketing his scissors. He stares at me and I can't meet his gaze – I turn from my window and go to the bedroom. I shut the door and settle myself in my rocking chair.

 

*****

 

Like clockwork, every day at 10 a. m. he returns to my roses and clips a single white bloom, and every day I stand at the front window and watch him. Sometimes he looks up at me with a small smile, and on those days I make sure to scowl at him. Other days, when he catches me watching, he offers me his brilliant grin and the sunlight catches his bright green eyes and dances across his freckles. On those days I pull my curtains shut and retreat to the bedroom, taking solace in my rocker.

 

*****

 

The weather changes and with that, his schedule – no longer does he come by the front window every day, but I still catch a glimpse of him once a week – every Tuesday, still at 10 a.m. – and every time he notices me watching, he offers up that same smile. As the months passed, I often find myself lingering a little bit longer at the window, watching him. Sometimes I offer my own smile in return – on those days I swear I can see him blush.

 

*****

 

When winter time comes and there is snow on the ground and my rose bush is barren, he still comes past the window every Tuesday, holding a single white rose. I admire his backside as he walks past and I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks when he looks back and sees me standing at the window. He walks past on Christmas Day, the only time he's broken his schedule in months, and when the Christmas lights surrounding the window catch his eye, he grins. I can't help but grin, too.

 

*****

The first Tuesday of spring brings with it gorgeous blooms from my rose bush and a kind of giddiness I haven't felt in a year. At 10 a.m. I open my front door and walk out onto the porch. He looks over to me and his grin is so blinding I falter in my step. “Are you sure?” He asks and I nod. He stares at me for a moment and I suck in a large breath before taking the final step off the porch. I walk over to him and we stand before my roses – he bends down to clip another white bloom. When he rises, he offers me his hand and I take it; he squeezes my fingers and we walk towards the cemetery.

 

*****

 

In front of the small tombstone, he crouches and lays his rose down over the small mound. I crouch, too, and brush my fingers over the engraving on the stone.

 

Beloved Daughter  
Baby Winchester-Novak  
Tuesday, March 22, 2016

 

I place my rose next to Dean's and I feel myself being pulled forward, his hands cradle my face and his thumbs brush away the hot tears I didn't realize were coming. I look up at him and see watery green reflecting my own watery blue. I bite back a sob and wrap my arms around him for the first time in what feels like forever.

 

“I love you, Cas,” he whispers into my hair.

 

I know.


End file.
